When She Wakes
by DeannosaurusRex
Summary: John's comrade from Afghanistan appears suddenly in his life again, but when she decides to live in London after her tour of duty, things take an interesting turn. She struggles to remain calm with John's best friend, Sherlock, but when a case drives the two unexpected people together things may take a turn for the worst. Rated M for Violence and Language. I don't own Sherlock!
1. Prologue

**This is my first story so please be kind.  
>I really enjoy hearing from people, I take criticism well, so please Review!<br>It's rated M for violence and language, and maybe some other things later on, not really sure where it's heading just yet.  
>This is just to see if people actually like my writing, so please favorite, follow, review, or pm me and let me know how I'm doing, if I need to change anything, or if i'm completely wasting my time with this.<br>Just in case; I don't own Sherlock, or any of the characters, except my OC!  
>-Rex-<strong>

**Prologue:**

Her pace remained slow and steady as she walked down the deserted street her electric pink heels clicking loudly, echoing off the buildings around her. She looked around, cautiously, making sure she wasn't being followed. She sighed, knowing she was mostly just being paranoid. She ran her fingers through her hair, brushing some loose strands from her eyes.

As she crossed an abandoned road, ignoring the "No Walk" sign that glared at her with its brilliant orange light. As she passed the familiar buildings on her street, her attention was grabbed by a strange noise down a nearby alley. She stared down the alley, squinting her eyes as much as possibly, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She turned away from the alley with a shrug once the silence returned. However before she could move more than two steps toward her home, the noise from the alley occurred again, but this time louder. She turned and stared into the darkness of the alley again, trying her best to make her eyes focus. She slowly walked into the alley, toward the sound, becoming enveloped in the alley's utter darkness. She began to look around, praying silently that it was just a stray digging digging through the trash. She slowly readjusted the purse on her shoulder. Her eyesight strained against the dim moon lit alley. She moved further, deeper into the abyss, listening only to the strange noise that lay somewhere in the gloom ahead of her. A crunch of a can behind her made her quickly turn around. Before she could focus her eyes on anything, her body went rigid as a loud crack resonated over the brick walls. The bullet tore through her chest. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that escaped her lips was a raspy gasp for air. Her breathing increased to quickened, panic gasps as she stumbled backwards, dropping her purse and clutching the wound on her chest. Blood trickled through her fingers and down her jumper. She struggled to see the silhouette of the person in front of her. Her legs gave way beneath her, as another gunshot filled her ears. The second bullet splintered her collar bone and tore out through her shoulder blade. She crumbled to the ground face forward, with a soft thud. Her trembling hands attempted to find a proper fitting on the ground, wanting to stand back up. She felt a sharp pain as a bony knee was planted on her back, shoving her face down in to the musty cement. Her eye sight began to cloud, as her attacker whispered something to her. However her heart thrashing against her chest was the only thing she could hear as her brain tried to process that she was in fact, dying.

The pressure from her back quickly lifted and she was able to take in a pained gasp of air, though it didn't do much for the pain in her chest. A familiar face came into her clouded vision, but it was only her seeing things. Her breathing began to slow as her body temperature slowly dropped. She felt the cold ground beneath her and the frigidness of the crisp early morning air. She felt the warmness of her own blood as it stained through her clothes and was beginning to coagulate on the cement around her. She slowly crawled forward, using what little strength she had left to escape the complete darkness of the alley around her. She watched as the streetlight in front of her began to turn blurry. She blinked furiously and reached out; her voice broke and cracked as she tried to yell for help. Blood trickled from her mouth as she laid her head back down on the ground. She let out her last few pained gasps of air. Her lifeless blue eyes remained open, staring blankly at the brick wall of the alley. Her crimson blood turned black on the frozen ground around her.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1:**

Charlotte had her hair tied in a messy bun at the base of her neck. She had just been fired from work, her strange disappearances in the middle of the day, and her inability to keep her eyes open during work hours, it's no wonder she hadn't been fired sooner. Even thinking about the reason she lost her job drove her insane. She shouldn't blame him, it was her own damn fault she went whenever he asked.

Her hands clenched into fists as she had a strange feeling that someone was following her. She quickly turned a full circle, looking for any sign of anything suspicious, and like always she saw nothing out of the ordinary and turned back around. Paranoid as always, she sighed to herself as she rubbed down the hairs sticking up on the back of her neck. Her slim, gray work dress restricted her movements and made her sweat stick to her even more than usual. She was grateful, however, that she would no longer have to wear such feminine clothes, she thought as she attempted to walk a little quicker down the busy side walk, wanting to get home quickly, the feeling of being watched remained with her.

The sun glared down on her as she was finally reaching her flat. She quickly unlocked the front door of the building and entered quickly. She forgot to catch the door behind her and the door slammed right back into place, sending echoes throughout the building.

She quickly flicked off her heels and tackled the four flights of stairs by taking two at a time, struggling immensely with the restricting dress.

She finally reached her flat, she slowly caught her breathe as she dug for her keys. She quickly unlocked it and shoved the door open. The swollen hinges groaning and creaking in protest from the cold frigid air.

Her eyes took several moments to adjust to the complete, utter, darkness of the room. The dark shades covering the few windows, blocked out most of the light. She sighed and flicked on the lights. She screamed and nearly fell backwards through the open door. She gripped the door jamb, her knuckles turning white.

"Charlie...Jumpy as always." He stated in his rich baritone voice as he silently stood up from her sofa and approached her.

"You know I don't like being surprised Sherlock, and it's Charlotte to you." She muttered softly, trying to relax her clenched hands after removing them from the door jamb. She softly shut the door behind her.

"Charlotte doesn't suit you." He said as he stopped next to the kitchen table.

"What do you want?" Her eyes squinted lightly.

"I need your help..." He said as he slowly removed his dark blue scarf from around his neck and laid it on the kitchen table. He shrugged off his large wool coat and gently laid it over the near by chair. He sighed softly as he avoided her hardened glare.

She sighed and deposited her purse and jacket on the floor next to the door.

"John is busy...with..."

"Mary?" She cut him off with a raised eyebrow.

He couldn't help but to release a light chuckle.

"Yes with Mary...I need to bounce ideas off someone and when there is no one around, talking to myself doesn't seem logical."

"You know you got me fired today…" She growled lowly as she crossed her arms.

He smirked and headed back toward the sofa.

"You hated that job anyway. Rather boring and repetitive." He plopped down, sinking into the comfy leather of the couch again. His hands folded together and pressed against his lips as his mind began to unfold through his thoughts.

"That's not the point!" She stated very flustered.

"You didn't like the outfits either, and they are not flattering to your physic anyway." He stated, but his eyes remained glued to the wall in front of him.

"What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He remained silent, obviously ignoring her angry outburst. He began to mumble, mostly incoherent things, but a few words escaped his lips every now and then.

She growled softly as she placed her heels near the door, next to the crumpled up jacket and dumped purse. She deposited herself in the chair, across from the sofa, pulling her feet up close to her, rubbing them softly to edge the pain from wearing those damn heels all day. As she was just discovering a nasty red blister forming on her little toe when he jolted up from the sofa and began talking out loud.

"How could I have been so blind!?"He looked at her and began to run through and explanation.

"Her death was hasty, different than the others. She died in the alley. The others were killed somewhere else and deposited in alleys"

She watched him closely, her mind clouded with confusion.

"Why does that matter?...Wait there was another murder?"

He ignored her question as he burst with excitement.  
>"The others….they were tortured. Burned, cut, and mutilated. He's either devolving...or..." He clasped his hands together as he mumbled through the rest of his sentence. He stood up from the couch and began to pace.<p>

"So they aren't connected? Different killers?" She suggested trying to be as civil as possible, holding back her venomous tone.

Sherlock didn't respond to her questions again.

She glared at him and then rubbed her head in frustration and leaned back in the chair, sighing with annoyance. She began to fiddle with a strand of her hair, she stared at the split ends and several strands tangled in a mess.

Sherlock sat back down on the sofa and stared at her playing with her hair. _Stressed. Not sleeping. Couple days of not eating. _He noticed within a few seconds and sighed.

She flinched upon noticing his gaze. She quickly stood and headed for the kitchen to brew a pot of tea, and to avoid that obnoxious gaze of his.

She silently filled the silver kettle with water from the tap and placed it on the rickety old gas stove. She fiddled with the lighter and lit the pilot light and made sure the flames were set to high. She pulled two mugs from the cupboard, nearly dropping one with her shaking hands. Then she got sugar from the pantry and the milk from the fridge. She placed only milk in her mug and several scoops of sugar in to his. She turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin.

He was standing so close to her that his breath grazed over her face. He slowly reached for her, but she flinched away from his reach, out of instinct. He looked rather confused as he turned to face her again.

"Something the matter Charlotte?"

"N-No, nothing" She quickly shook her head and avoided his gaze.

Sherlock sighed and removed the water before the kettle began to whistle. He placed a few bags of tea into the kettle and turned back to her. He leaned back against the counter and ruffled his hands through his curly dark hair, still lost in his thoughts, but his eyes trained on her.

She glanced at him, but looked away. She turned toward the living room, but as if to say something to him turned back around. Her mouth opened, but shut without a sound and she turned and quickly returned back to her chair. She rested her head on her open palm, her elbow nestled into the arm of the chair, and curled her legs up against her.

He silently poured the tea into the mugs, bringing her's without saying a word. He sat down on the sofa and fiddled with with the handle on the mug. He took a few sips of the sweet liquid. He sighed contently. He glanced in her direction as she sipped her tea, however he looked away as not to be caught staring again.

She set her tea on the table next to the chair."Were they killed by the same person?" She asked softly, in almost a whisper. "Maybe the last murder was more personal, or killed for a different reason."

His eyes widened and he nearly dropped his cup of tea. He placed the mug on the table so quickly, that he almost spilled it on the floor. He gathered his coat and scarf and sprinted out of her apartment, without a word.

She jumped when he slammed the door behind him and watched the door for a few seconds longer as she heard his thunderous footsteps flying down the stairs. She shakily stood and picked up the mugs, depositing them into the sink that was already full of dirty dishes. She gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white.

"I have to get new locks... again!"


	3. Chapter 2

The sweat clung to her forehead and drops dribbled down the side of her face. She jolted awake with a scream. Her body was stiff and sore, but that did little to stop her from sitting bolt upright and hastily looked around at her surroundings. A nasty headache throbbed through her forehead as her heart raced, threatening to burst through her chest. She slumped back, falling back on to her bed with a heavy sigh, her hands covering her face, rubbing her forehead hoping to ebb the pain.  
>She wished for a peaceful sleep, but was only greeted with nightmares every night. Dark figures, horrid places, children she could have saved, comrades lost, loud explosions, white hot flashes. She took several calming breathes, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and rolled over in her bed looking at the clock, almost 7. She groaned and looked up at the celling. She felt her heart still slightly racing, and her hands were sweaty and shaking heavily. For a long while she didn't move, trying to even out her breathing. She remained focused on breathing in deeply and exhaling sharply.<p>

When Charlie's breathing leveled out and her heart slowed to a steady pace she sat up and climbed out of her bed. She stumbled toward the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror. She had forgotten to remove her makeup last night and it had smudged clear across her face, making her look like a panda or some stressed out raccoon. She stared at herself for a while, wiping her fingers across her face trying to clean off some of the ruined makeup. She lowered her hands to grip the edge of the sink with white knuckles.

Her mind rushed with horrid flashes of explosions. Her hands clung to the sink as if it was her only life line as she shook her head to clear her vision. She had to take several deep breathes to keep calm. She slowly unclasped her fingers and sunk to the floor, her breathing slowly turning to hyperventilating gasps. Her vision clouded with black spots as she slowly slammed her hands against her throbbing head.

"Stop. Stop." She tangled her fingers in to her hair and yanked at the tangled mess.

She remained frozen on the floor for a while, struggling to even breathe properly. She lowered her hands from her hair and looked at them. They were shaky and shiny with sweat.

She looked toward the bath. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she crawled across the cold tile. She climbed into the tub, blocked the drain, and turned on the hot water. She sat with her back, ram rod straight against the back of the tub, fully clothed. She watched the water swirl around her, not moving as the hot water began to scald her through her clothes.

An hour or more passed before she heard a knock at the door. She acted quickly, unclogging the drain, pulling off her wet clothes and wrapping herself in a large white towel. She scampered down the hall, skidding to a sudden stop in front of the door. She peered through the peek hole and sighed. She unlocked the bolt and opened the door. Charlie smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes, when she caught sight of the short blonde man.

"Did Sherlock send you?"

He laughed, "Yes."

"Typical..." She growled and opened the door wider for him to enter, but in the process revealing that she was merely only wearing a bath towel.

He wasn't a tall man, but he was handsome in some ways. His dusty blond hair remained short, making his ears to appear bigger then they actually were. He entered her apartment without a word, avoiding eye contact with her mostly naked body.

"He wants to see both of us. Of course when you are ready…" He offered a nervous smile.

"Oh!" Her face flushed with embarrassment as she took off toward her bedroom. She hid herself in her closet and flicked on the light. She scrambled quickly to get on clothes. She decided on a pair of jeans, and a loose fitting gray jumper. She snagged a pair of socks before exiting her closet. She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out as much of the tangles as possible as she headed back to the kitchen where she had left her unexpected guest.

"Sorry about that Watson." She puffed a little annoyed, but tried to contain her bitterness because it wasn't directed at him.

He shrugged and smiled a little.

" No need for apologies Charlie, you're just lucky I showed up instead of him. And how many times have I told you, you can just call me John. We are no longer in the army no point in using the formalities."

"Alright John." She softly spoke.

"Why didn't he come? He didn't seem to have a problem breaking in here last night." She muttered as she began her search for her shoes.

John's eyes widened, "He broke in to your flat?"

"Yes..." She muttered as she tried to control her shaking hands to tie her shoes.

"What does he want?" She asked as she finished tying her shoes and stood.

"Didn't say...Something to do with the case." He sighed. "We better hurry because he texted me late last night and now it's" He looked at his wrist watch "…almost 10."

She shook her head and collected her brown leather jacket and purse from where she deposited them on the floor last night.

"There is a taxi waiting for us outside." He smiled as he opened the door for her. She grabbed her keys and followed after him, locking up the flat behind her.

As the taxi driver turned on the Baker Street, John looked away from the window toward Charlie.

"You know he does appreciate you." A rather awkward smile spread across his face. She didn't even have to look at him to know that what he was saying was a lie.

"He only uses me when you are not around. I do have a life outside the two of you, including a job, that I don't have any more thanks to him!" She retorted as she looked at him. "He only appreciates himself...he will never care about anyone." She turned away, her hands clenching to fists at her sides.

John looked at her hands and sighed.

"He has always been like this...accepting that he is a total cock comes with the territory." He said lightly.

As the taxi pulled up to the curb in front of 221B, John climbed out of the taxi; he stood behind the door as Charlie slowly followed him. He shut the door and paid the cabby. He turned and headed up the few stairs to the door. He unlocked the door and headed inside.

Charlie stopped at the threshold. Her eyes clouded with hallucinations of blood, thick and swirling around her. Her legs seemed to shut down on her as she tried to move forward. She took several deep breathes and stumbled into the building, but held onto the door handle till she could blink away the foul images.

All the while, John was watching her closely. He knew she had a harder time adjusting to civilian life, more so then he did, but she didn't have a friend to help her through the difficult days as he had. She had only been back for little over a year, having been wounded by shrapnel from a IED.

He silently led her up the skinny flight of stairs as he thought about recommending a new therapist for her, maybe even his. He didn't bother knocking, knowing that Sherlock would be distracted by his thoughts to notice them till they were actually standing in front of him. However he was very wrong. Sherlock had been on edge all last night. He had just barely gotten into a deep sleep when he nearly had a panic attack, awoken by the footsteps coming up the stairs to his flat. He quickly hopped out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown. He flung it around him and hurried out the door. He stood, trying to compose himself as he laid eyes on John entering the flat, followed by a very timid and pale looking Charlotte.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon" Sherlock glared at John.

"Sorry, I got your text from last night this morning and went right straight to get her. You didn't say when you wanted to meet and didn't answer your phone" John sighed as he sat down on the tattered leather sofa.

" I'm not just some dog you can summon Sherlock...I have a phone you could have texted me yourself!" Charlie glared at him, crossing her arms in an angered stance.

" But would you have come?" He asked as one of his eyebrows raised.

" Probably not." "She admitted as she uncrossed her arms and sighed." Espessially after what you pulled last night. You're lucky John and I get on."

Sherlock chuckled as he turned away, beginning to pace back and forth from the couch to the fireplace chairs. He began mumbling, but this time Charlie refused to be quiet. She grumbled audibly and sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace. She slouched back into the red chair and sighed. John shook his head slightly and stood, and headed toward the kitchen to brew a pot of tea.

"Sherlock where's your tea?" He asked from the kitchen.

He muttered something that neither of them could hear as his hands pressed against his lips. He dropped down onto the couch. He looked up at the ceiling for several moments and then right at Charlie. He sighed and shook his head, trying to concentrate.

Charlie fiddled with a loose seam on her jumper, thinking about why she had even been dragged here. She stared into the emptiness of the fireplace, becoming mesmerized by the black, lifeless cinders. When John returned with two mugs of tea, he cleared his throat to get her attention, which made her jump and nearly fall from the chair. She sighed and straitened herself back out in the chair. With shaking hands she took the mug.

"Sorry Char...I didn't mean to scare you." He said softly as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

"Don't apologize... It's not your fault John." She mumbled as she looked up at him with a small smile and then shifted her gaze to her steaming tea.

John headed over to Sherlock handing him his mug. He whispered something that she couldn't hear.

Charlie looked over just in time to see Sherlock looking directly at her and then nod toward John and whisper something back at him. She fumed angrily and turned back around to face the fireplace, taking a sip of the hot tea. She stared at the milky liquid and fell into another strange mesmerized trance. She didn't notice Mrs. Hudson come in till she gently laid his hand on her shoulder.

"Charlie dear, is everything ok?"

Charlie looked up, blinking rather confused.

"Yes perfectly fine." She forced a smile and returned her attention back to her tea and took a small sip.

Sherlock slowly stood from the couch as Mrs. Hudson vanished into the kitchen. He began to pace again and stopped suddenly and opened his computer. He pounded his fingers on the keys, typing quickly. John took the chair across from Charlie. He gently took her free hand and held it loosely. John cocked his head and looked at Sherlock before returning his gaze to her.

"It seems he is being typical Sherlock...would you like to come with Mary and I to eat?" He asked slowly letting go of her hand.

" I'm not hungry..." She glared at the tea in her hand.

"Come on it's my treat, where ever you want." John said with a smile "Even that awful Chinese place you like so much."

She looked up from her tea and gave a mischievous smile. "Really?"

"Yes. We can catch up that way. Mary hasn't seen you for a while and she is dying to have some girl time." He coaxed with a laugh.

"Fine. Hopefully he'll be awake the time we are finished." She looked at Sherlock as she raised her voice a bit so he could hear her. She then got up from the chair and headed toward the kitchen and silently placed her nearly full cup of tea in the sink.

Mrs. Hudson looked at her, pity and sadness in her eyes, but didn't say a word.

Charlie turned around and headed for the door. John followed after her, not taking a look back at Sherlock. As John was leaving the door, Charlie kindly let him go down the stairs first in order to take the door and slam it loudly into its place. She walked slowly down the stairs with a smile on her lips, catching up with John. She sighed once outside and breathing the cold fresh air. She looked around and spotted a car a little down the street. A small, blonde pixie like woman exited the car and headed toward them. She kissed John lightly on the lips then took Charlie in a warm hug. "Hello dear." She smiled happily as she exited her embrace. "Ready to go?"

"Yes." Watson said as he smiled at his wife.


	4. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all the reviews and follows! You guys are amazing!**

Her bright pink heels clicked loudly as she sprinted down the alley. One of the strained heels snapped and collapsed underneath her weight. She plummeted to the ground, landing with a sharp gasp. Her heart raced nearly out of her chest as she tried to push herself back up. Her hands slipped on the damp ground, scraping them deep. She winced and bit back tears as she was finally able to kneel. She heard her pursuer's loud foot falls behind her, and she barely had time to turn her head to get a glimpse of her attacker before he was upon her. He flipped her over, straddling her with his legs. His breathe was hot against her sweaty skin as he pinned her to the cold ground. She struggled underneath him and screamed as loud as her lungs could hold, before he shoved a hand over her mouth, sealing her fate. He pinned her to the ground more forcefully to keep her squirming to a minimum. He lifted the needle from his hoodie pocket, while holding her still with one arm, and shoved it into her neck. Her movements soon faded as the drug entered her system. Her eyelids fluttered shut as the man was tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Charlie woke with a loud scream. She quickly sat up and felt the sweat tears dribbled off her forehead, down her face. She took in several gasping breathes of air, struggling to breathe. She slide one of her hands into her hair as she placed her head in-between her knees as she brought them up close to her.

After several long, utterly silent minutes, her breathing leveled out. She lifted her head and looked down at her trembling hands. She slowly began to regain her sanity. She covered her face with her clammy, shaking hands, and sighed softly.

She uncovered her face to look at the clock. 3:32 am.

She stumbled out of bed and headed down the hall, toward her kitchen. The flashes of her nightmare still plaguing her mind. She could still feel the sand in her throat and her ears still seemed to ring from the loud bangs of the rifles.

She flicked on ever light possible as she went, feeling like a young girl again, afraid of the dark.

When she made it to the kitchen she reached above her stove, to a cabinet full of liquor bottles. Without taking much more than a glance at the bottle, she grabbed it and unscrewed the cap. Her mind sent a flash of the war around her. The loud screams of her comrades, children crying, blood becoming black in the light of the sun. She looked down at her shaking hands before taking a few large swigs from the bottle. After several more drinks she leaned back against the kitchen counter, allowing time for the alcohol to kick in and push the awful memories from her mind.

A loud, back-firing vehicle, down on the street below, made her jolt so violently the bottle sipped from her sweaty hand and shattered across the kitchen floor. She dropped into a crouch behind the counter and out of instinct she reached for the hand gun she had hidden in the drawer by the sink.

She held the gun tightly in her grasp as she slowly crept around the counter. She winced slightly. She looked down, seeing a streak of red across the floor. She had sliced her foot on a shard of glass.

She felt dizzy as she watched the small puddle of blood begin to pool around her foot. She took in several sharp gasps of air, dropped her gun on the ground and tried to stand up. She grasped the edge of the counter and pulled herself up. She stood there a moment, clutching the edge in order to stop her vision from swimming. Her sight began to cloud, red with fog as she stared at the blood continuing to pool around her foot.

She had to mentally slap herself for being such a chicken and a wimp in order to move finally. She was able to limp toward the kitchen table and slowly place herself into one of the chairs.

She picked up her foot and stared at the bleeding wound, it wasn't large in any sense, but the glass still stuck in the wound allowed for a lot of blood to dribble out and drip on to the floor.

She took in a sharp gasp as she tugged on the glass. She bit her tongue as yanked it out. Her stomach began to churn and she nearly threw up all over the kitchen floor.

She chucked the glass, across the room and it skidded across the kitchen floor producing several quiet dings of noise.

She slowly stood and limped toward the bathroom leaving a smeary blood trail as she went. She quickly filled the sink with warm water and drenched a hand towel with the warm water. She sat on the cold tile floor as she wrapped the wet towel around her bleeding foot. She sat there in a daze which to her only felt like a few minutes.

She was awoken from her trance by a loud series of knocks at the front door. She didn't move at first, just stared through the open bathroom door. She looked down at her foot, and the towel, that was now saturated in her blood. She felt a bit woozy as she continued to stare at the blood. Another knock came, louder and a little more urgent.

"Charlie?" A muffled voice sounded, and Charlie growled in frustration as she pushed herself up from the cold floor. She limped down the hall as another knock came, this one louder and more urgent than the last.

She turned the corner and watched her step as she maneuvered around the shards of glass still strewn across the kitchen floor. She unlocked the latch and slowly opened the door.

John's eyes widened at the sight of the kitchen, blood and broken glass was everywhere.

"Charlie? What happened?" John asked worried, he laid his hands on her shoulders and moved her over to the side as Sherlock brushed past them.

She mumbled softly, but nothing coherent came from her lips.

John looked at her closely, worried. Then he looked down at her foot, still wrapped in the bloody towel and then he looked around at all the broken glass.

Charlie sighed and lowered her gaze.

"Let me look at your foot." John stated and led her toward the table, making sure she avoided the glass on her bare feet. He lowered her into one of the chairs and pulled another one closer to her and sat in it himself. He lifted up her leg gently and removed the damp towel. He looked at the wound closer.

"Doesn't look too bad." He muttered.

Charlie just stared at him, not really focusing on anything.

John stood up and went to find something better to wrap her foot in other than another towel.

"Find anything?" John asked as he saw Sherlock snooping around Charlie's room.

He vanished into the bathroom and grabbed another towel and dug through the cabinets finding some gauze.

Sherlock appeared in the door.

"No sign of break in." He said and then followed John down the hall toward Charlie, who had slumped over in the chair, asleep.

Sherlock watched John patch up her foot. He finished wrapping the wound with gauze and looked at Sherlock.

"Help me move her to the couch." He ordered and lightly picked up her feet. Sherlock bent over and lifted her from the chair with ease. They gently laid her down on the couch, covering her with a couple light blankets.

Sherlock lounged in the uncomfortable chair across from the couch, near the open window. His hands propped up his head as he watched her calmly sleeping.

She had stirred a few times, but remained in her deep slumber. He sighed and dug around in his pockets for his secret packet of cigarettes. He knew John wasn't going to be back for a while and pulled one out and was just about to light it.

"If you light that in front of me without giving me one, I'll be forced to strangle you with your own scarf..." Charlie mumbled softly as she slowly sat up on the couch.

"You are awake" He sat up a little bit in his chair, leaning forward. "Care to explain what happened?" He asked as stood up from the chair to hand her his already lit cigarette.

"Don't act like you don't know..." She looked at him, her green eyes glaring with annoyance as she took several long drags from the cigarette. She slowly stood up taking in several more drags, as she stumbled toward her bathroom, slamming the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 4

She leaned her head against the cold shower wall, she had already turned off the water, and begun to shiver as the hot steam from the shower began to fade. She slowly slid to the bottom of the tub.

She had no effort to climb back out and face Sherlock. She glared down at her foot, the gauze now soaked with water and pink where the cut lay. She slowly ran her fingers over the gauze and flinched.

She gradually stood with a long, heavy sigh after who knows how long. She slowly got dried off and dressed.

She looked around upon leaving the bathroom, finding no sign of Sherlock in her room. She slowly walked down the hallway, finding, to her surprise, both John and Sherlock lounging on her living room furniture. She leaned against the hallway wall and watched them as they conversed quietly. John looked up from the folder he had in his hands.

" How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine..." She mumbled softly as she headed toward the fridge. She noticed everything that happened last night was cleaned up, even her splatter of blood.

She suddenly remembered her gun and began looking for it frantically. Opening and banging the cabinets closed loudly.

She found it finally, right under her nose next to the sink, slightly covered by the hand towel. She pulled the barrel back and checked to make sure a bullet was in the chamber and then hid it back in it's original hiding place. When she turned back around, both of them were staring at her.

"What?"

They both looked away quickly and returned to their talk about the case.

She slowly walked over, forgetting that she originally intended to grab something to eat and sat next to John on the couch.

"What are you guys working on?"

"Another woman has gone missing." John said handing her the file. She thumbed through it.

"Has a body turned up yet?"

"No not yet." John murmured softly.

"Well its obvious…" Sherlock mumbled.

Both John and Charlie looked at him confused.

"Sherlock you are doing it again. Please explain why it should be obvious. No one knows where she is." John huffed.

"You and your boring, little minds!" He said as he stood up. "The woman obviously isn't connected to this case." He started pacing across the carpet. "She's a known drug addict."

John took back the folder "How could you possibly know about the drugs?"

"Look on the fourth page…she went missing last year and wasn't found for four days. Drugs, has to be."

"You would know right?" Charlie looked at him with an angry glare.

"Charlotte." John looked at her with a shocked glance.

She only shrugged a response.

"What if that's what they want us to think?" She asked coyly after a few silent minutes.

Sherlock glared at her for a moment, but quickly looked away in thought.

They left a few hours later with John promising to return later with Mary and dinner.

She lay back on the couch and sighed. She tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling, she knew she needed to get out of the flat for a while or she was going to go mad. She stood, limped to the bedroom, and quickly changed to something warmer.

She grabbed her bag and her light winter coat. She headed down the stairs, slowly limping on each step, and finally exited the building. She hailed a cab and gave him directions to a cafe.

As she was just sitting down with a strong cup of black coffee a tall lean man walked in and sat down across from her. He set his umbrella on top of the table and gently placed his brief case down on the floor next to him.

"Hello Charlie." He said with a smirk. "I'm Mycroft Holmes."

"Mycroft?" Charlie looked at him with confusion

"So you haven't heard of me? How pleasant" He smiles sarcastically. "I always hoped my brother talked about me often." He said with a small smile. He swiftly removed the umbrella from the table and replaced it with the briefcase and clicked it open.

"As you could have guessed this isn't a social call." He shuffles through some papers with in the case and surfaces with small red folder. He closed his briefcase and replaced it back down on the ground next to him. He opened the folder and turned it around so she could see.

"These men have been following you." He said simply

"Following me?..Wait. If you are Sherlock's brother why has he neglected to mention you" She looked over the folder confused. She didn't recognize any of them.

"I'm sure you know my brother by now. Not always the most polite when it comes to his family." He said as he leaned back in his chair.

Charlie looked up at him, noticing very little resemblances between him and Sherlock.

"Why am I being followed?" Charlie asked, wanting to change the subject back, curious as to why her life may actually be in danger.

"Well you can thank Sherlock for that. Hanging out with him makes you into a target. The same thing happened with John." He calmly took the folder back from her and placed it back with in his case.

"We will be keeping a close eye on you, don't worry. Nothing will happen without my knowledge."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" She murmured, her anger slightly rising. She looked at him as he stood and collected his things.

"Don't worry; nothing will happen to you as long as you keep that temper of yours in check Charlotte." He said with a smile as he stood up.

"Sherlock didn't think you should know, however he isn't the one keeping his eyes on you at all times." He turned and exited the café without looking back.

She sat in silence for a long while; finally she removed her cellphone from her purse and messaged Sherlock.

**Met your brother, and he had some interesting things to tell me.**

**-C**

After a little while she got a text back. She reread it a few times and almost wanted to chuck her phone at the wall.

**You weren't****supposed to know.****  
><strong>**John and I were handling it.****  
><strong>**-SH**

She stood and left the cafe, still limping, the pain no longer bothering her. The pain was only just a reminder that she was in fact broken and falling to little tiny pieces.

She caught another cab and headed straight back to her flat.

She entered her flat the bright afternoon sunlight filtered through the western windows and lit up every corner of her kitchen and living room. She headed back toward her bedroom.

She chucked off her warm clothes and grabbed a tattered sweatshirt and pulled it on. She stumbled back to her kitchen and grabbed a bag of crisps and munched away on them for a while. She tossed the almost full bag back on to the counter.

She limped toward her chair and sat down, staring out the window. She looked down at her hands, which were shaking, nothing new there. She clasped them together and curled up in the chair, returning her gaze to the window again, fighting the urge for a drink and a cigarette.

She woke up with a jolt, falling from the chair and landing awkwardly on the ground. She winced as she stood up, having forgotten about her little annoying wound. She headed into the kitchen thinking coffee would help.

She noticed the time on the microwave, 6:23 pm. She sighed softly feeling like a train had hit her. She forgot the coffee and went straight for the bottle of vodka hidden in her pots and pans cupboard. She guzzled down most of the bottle before even taking a breather.

Around 8, her cellphone, which still remained in her purse, buzzed loudly. She stared at her bag, not making any move to retrieve the cell. After it buzzed a few more times it fell silent and then beeped signaling a voice message.

She groggily stumbled forward to collect it from her bag and glared at the infernal thing as if she was confused how to run it in her drunken state.

She deleted the message, not really caring after reading it was from Sherlock. She tossed the phone on to the counter, it clanked in response.

She grumbled as she sat down at the kitchen table, grasping the almost empty bottle of alcohol back into her hands. Her phone started buzzing again, and she slammed her head down on the kitchen table, and groaned in pain, regretting that decision fully.

She lifted her head and rubbed her now reddened forehead as she stood and went to grab her phone.

"What?" She answers nastily without checking the caller id.

"Well Hello to you to." John's voice muttered.

"Sorry..." She sighed.

"Mary wanted me to call and see if you still wanted dinner?"

"oh...uh" She looked around and then realized she had only eaten a handful of crisps and drank almost half a bottle of vodka.

She sighed "N-No...I'm s-sf-fine." Her words slurred together.

"If you say so..." He said something away from the phone and then returned.

"Sherlock said something happened between you and Mycroft."

"Y-Yes." She muttered as she peered out of her living room window, looking down on the street. She shook her head

"Sorry what?"

"I said what happened?"

"H-He told me everything... " She murmured as she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips.

He sighed "I'm sorry that he was the one to tell you, you know we only wanted to protect you."

She glared at her shaking hand and clenched it in to a fist.

"Charl-" She pulled the phone away from her and clicked the end button. She dropped the phone down on the table and double checked her front door lock and latched the chain lock, before drunkenly stumbling to her bed.

"She hung up on me" John sighed and set the phone down looking across his kitchen toward his wife. "And she was completely drunk."

"She shouldn't be alone in that flat. It's not safe." Mary sighed and sat down next to him and held his hand loosely.

"I could stay with her or we could have her stay here..." She thought out loud.

"You know she won't go for that..." He sighed. "Maybe Sherlock could convince her?" He picked up his phone and sent a quick message.

**Charlie knows everything. She won't talk to me. **

**-JW**

He set his phone down, awaiting his reply. He looked at Mary and she gave him her 'You know I'm right look'. He opened his mouth to say something when his phone buzzed. "Hold that thought"

**Mycroft is watching over her, but I will pay her a visit.**

**-SH**

Sherlock headed down Charlie's street in the late morning hours. His coat wrapped tightly around him to keep the cold winter wind from his skinny frame. He ran his fingers down all the buzzers on her building, avoiding hers. Someone was expecting someone as he figured and buzzed him in. He quickly climbed the stairs and softly knocked on her door, nothing. He sighed and knocked again.

"Charlie?" He called through the door and knocked several more times.

"I know you are here."

"Hold on." A muffled call stated from inside her flat. He stepped back and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and waited.

She answered the door, simply in a towel; her wet hair lightly drizzled over her chest.

"Oh for the love of-" She attempted to slam the door shut.

Sherlock caught the door with his hand and looked her over thoroughly, thinking some rather human thoughts.

"Charlie...I'm here to talk about what happened yesterday, with Mycroft."

She growled and flung open the door.

"Well then, by all means!" She purred sarcastically. She stomped off toward her bedroom. She quickly dressed herself in comfy clothes. She walked back out and tousled her wet hair a little with her hands as she looked at him.

"What?"

Sherlock looked at her as he sat down.

"John and I believe you should stay with one of us for the time being."

She was sure her mouth had fallen open as she looked at him in disbelief.

"You and me? In the same flat?" She laughs sarcastically "The world would surly end!"

"Oh, don't be so over dramatic Charlie." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well I'm not going to impose on Mary and John." She grumbled. "I'm perfectly safe here. I know how to take care of myself."

He looked at her and sighed.

"Nope." She huffed and crossed her arms.

He clasped his hands together and placed them in front of his mouth in a steeple form. "Pack your things, I'll call a taxi."

"No…." Her hands balled into fists as they were beginning to tremor with rage. Her head already hurt from the wicked hang over she was enduring and Sherlock was only making it throb worse.

She let out a shaky sigh, trying to contain her vicious anger. She wheeled around on one foot and headed toward her bedroom, barricading herself inside with a chair shoved under the door handle. She looked down at her hands and leaned up against the far wall on the other side of her bed. Her hands were shaking so badly that they almost looked like a blur.

She slid down the wall as tears bubbled over her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. She placed her shaking hands against her head as she continued to cry as the adrenaline, from her anger, left her system. Her head throbbed so violently more tears glistened down her face. _I'm not in control of anything..._

Sherlock heard the shuffling in her room and knew she was trying to block the door. He dialed the taxi, giving him a few minutes to get her sorted out.

He slowly walked toward her bedroom door and knocked softly. He attempted to open the door and sighed when the handle caught the chair underneath it. He shoved against the door, shoving the chair slightly.

"Charlie?" He sighed, as he shoved again against the door, pushing the chair completely out of the way. He quickly looked around for her and found her up against the wall on the other side of her bed. He slowly dropped to one knee next to her and reached out lightly touching her cheek.

She flinched violently from her catatonic state, her pupils dilated and her eyes teary.

He gently gripped her upper arm, ignoring her futile struggles against him, and helped her on to the bed.

He grabbed one of her luggage bags and selected several pairs of clothing, then went in to the bathroom, collected anything else she may need. He slung the bag over his shoulder as he ignored her awful looking glares, and headed out the apartment and down the stairs to meet the taxi, only to find a large black car and a very smug looking Mycroft.

"Figured you could use a lift, brother mine."

Sherlock sighed and handed the valet the bag and turned around to head back up the stairs to collect her.

She remained where he left her, frozen on her bed, tears still rolling down her cheeks, but her eyes moved to look at him as he appeared in her room.

He leaned over and lightly touched her arm.

"Charlie. Are you really going to make me carry you?" He asked a little flustered with his predicament.

She lifted her head and glared at him, but slowly stood.

Sherlock kept a steady hand on her back as he led her out of the flat. He snatched up her keys from the kitchen counter and locked up behind him before helping her down the stairs.

"I am capable of walking down stairs." She said in a very harsh tone, but her voice was at a very low level, almost a whisper.

He ignored her and continued holding on to her arm to make sure she didn't trip down the stairs.

When they reached the car, Mycroft looked at her in slightly confusion

.  
>"Is she alright?" He said as he entered the car and slide to the far side to allow room to get her into the car easier.<p>

"She's fine." He mimicked Charlie's irritated tone and glared at his older brother. He gently placed her on the seat next to Mycroft, who held her up gently as Sherlock slide in after her.

"You know I'm sitting right here. Don't talk about me like I'm not." Charlie hissed.

"221 B Baker Street." Mycroft stated simply at the driver before looking from Charlie to Sherlock.

-

Thanks for the reviews! I'll hopefully be posting several more chapters soon!

Please let me know what you guys are thinking! I would love to hear more from you.

-Rex


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